"No, mother. I never was so happy in all my five senses as I am now. The world was never so beautiful, and life never so desirable, as since I loved Theodora." "Doubtless you think she is a nonsuch, but I call your case one of lamentable self-pleasing. To the lures of what you consider a beautiful woman, you are sacrificing your noblest feelings and traditions. Don't deceive yourself. Was there not in all Scotland a girl of your own race and faith, good enough for you to marry?" "I never saw one I wanted to marry." "I might mention Jane Dalkeith." "You need not. I would not marry Jane if she was the only woman in the world!" "You prefer above all others an Englishwoman and a Methodist?" "Decidedly." "You have made up your mind to marry this doubly objectionable woman?" "Positively, some time next October." "And what is to become of me, and your sisters?" "That is what I wish to understand." "I have my dower-house in Saltcoats, but it is small and uncomfortable. If I go there, I shall have to leave the Kirk I have sat in for thirty-seven years, the minister who is dear and profitable to me, all the friends I have in the world, and the numerous----" "Mother, I wish you to do none of these things. This house is large enough for us all. The south half, which you now occupy, you can retain for yourself and my sisters. I shall refurnish, as Theodora desires, the northern half, and if you will continue the management of the house and table, we can all surely eat in our present dining-room. There will only be one more to cater for, and I will allow liberally for that in the weekly sum for your expenditure. Theodora is no housekeeper and does not pretend to be. She is immensely clever and intellectual, and has been a professor in a large Methodist College for girls." "You will be a speculation to all who know you." "I am not caring a penny piece. They can speculate all they choose to. I shall meanwhile be extremely indifferent. I have come at last, mother, to understand that in a great love there is great happiness. The whole soul can take shelter there." "The soul takes shelter in nothing and in no one related to this earth. That is some of last Sabbath's teaching, I suppose." "Yes," he answered. "I was at Theodora's side all last Sunday and I learned this lesson in the sweetest way imaginable." "I wish you to talk modestly before your sisters, and I do not like to hear the Sabbath called Sunday." Robert laughed and answered: "Well, mother, we have so little sunshine in Scotland, we really cannot speak of any day as Sunday." "You may laugh, Robert, but such things are related to spiritual ordinances, and are not joking matters." "You are right, mother. Let us get back to business. Will you accept my proposal, or do you prefer to go to your own home?"